Notebook
by Kayzo
Summary: At the end of every semester I go through my notebooks and always find little drabble-writings. I figured I should put them all in one place.
1. Obey

Obey:

Castiel was always the most obedient of angels.

Even by angelic standards, Castiel was always quick to follow an order, to jump to attention, to charge into an attack.

That last one has caused him to kill women and children with no defense

Castiel did not resent his obedience. He is an angel, it was right. He was doing as all the other angels. Disobedience is the highest sin.

It was when Anael fell of her own choosing that Castiel began to question his absolute obedience. Were not the others like him?

When Castiel was charged to go to hell to retrieve the Righteous Man, it was the first time he wanted to say no. it was an honor and a privilege, but his fear overwhelmed him. And so he said no.

What came out was 'yes'.

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><p>hello! sorry the formating's weird on this one, I wanted the center alined ones to simply be indented for effect, but apparently FF won't let me do that. oh well, hopefully you still kind of get what I was going for. (not that I'm entirely sure what that was)<p>

This one was from my Philosophy notebook!


	2. Shatter

"Dean, Dean, Dean" repeat like a prayer between hitched breathes. Dean loves the power high when heaven's warrior thrashes and writhes for him, drunk off pleasure. Cas shudders, involuntary sounds of need and want leaving his throat as he rocks back against Dean as best he can. The ropes binding his wrists to the headboard hold tight, but they both know it's more than rope holding Cas captive. When Cas breaks apart, Dean puts him back together, rearranging the pieces in his own image.

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><p>This one was from my Arabic notebook!<p> 


	3. Damnatio Memoria

Damnatio Memoria:

After Dean is gone, Castiel goes on. He's never been quite human enough to die. He wishes he could. Wishes he could die; could be done with this never ending live without Dean or Sam or anyone he holds dear.

But he cannot. All he can do is continue on. He doesn't leave traces anymore. Not since the first time. Because people find him. Not people like Sam or Dean, but people who want to cut him open and see how he works. Or people who are afraid and want him dead. He wishes he could appease the latter. After the first time, he went back. He went back and destroyed every evidence of himself, of his existence.

As he burned the last photo of himself on the mantel in Sam's great, great grandson's house, he wondered vaguely if the Romans were right. Erase the memory, erase the person's existence.

After the last bit of ash blew out the open window, Castiel was still there.

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><p>This one was from my Classical Archeology notebook!<p> 


	4. Secret Santa

"_Dean!_" it's a sob as much as a yell and Dean whips around, startled by the sound, but more so by the voice that was used to say it.

There he is. Cas. Staring at Dean the way Dean must be staring at him, wide-eyed, uncomprehending. Not moving for fear that the mirage in front of him will disappear.

But then he does, Cas stumbles forward in his haste, arms flailing for a moment and in any other situation it would have Dean in stiches. He looks different, and it doesn't hit Dean until Cas is scant inches away from him, hands hovering over Deans shoulders and face like he's not allowed to touch; he doesn't have his trench coat, it's still folded away in the back of the Impala, and his jacket is gone too. Without the layers, he looks smaller, more human, more breakable.

"Dean," Cas says again, barely a whisper, his eyes flirting around Dean's face, matching up his memory with reality, "_Dean_. They said you were dead, they said they took you and Sam and Bobby and _killed_ you and I let it happen, Dean, _I let it happen. _I-I brought them out and they _killed you_ and-and-" Cas cuts himself off when a sharp sound of pain tears itself from his throat.

"_Cas_" Dean breathes and Cas sobs, tears falling from his shiny eyes. Dean does not have the same hovering reservation as Cas, as though Dean might reject the touch, as though Dean would turn Cas away. Dean's arms encircle Cas' waist and crush the angel to him.

Cas lets out a sound that somehow speaks to both despair and elation and his hands finally rest on Dean's shoulders, gripping tight. Dean's saying Cas' name like a mantra and Cas just tightens his grip with every repetition, like he expects to be torn away at any moment, or worse yet, that Dean will try to leave him. Dean doesn't realize he's crying until Cas' name is just a shaky sob.

Dean pulls back slightly and Cas' hands spasm on his shoulders once, hard, before falling off entirely, hanging listlessly at his sides. Cas' eyes drop to Dean's shoulder and he won't meet Dean's eyes, even as Dean tries to catch his gaze.

"Cas" Dean says, voice rough from crying, "Cas, look at me." Dean moves one of his hands to the back of Cas' neck, the other staying firmly anchored to Cas' waist, and Cas finally lifts his gaze. His eyes are glassy, red-rimmed and troubled, screaming 'I'm sorry' in the same heartbeat as 'please don't leave me' and Dean's heart breaks a little bit right then.

"_Cas_," Dean wills him to understand, to see that Dean couldn't let him go, even if he wanted, not now, not after getting him back when he was so sure that Cas was lost to him forever. But he doesn't know how, he doesn't have the words for this; this is too big, too important.

Cas must get some of it, some of Dean's wordless yearning, because his hands come up to lightly grasp Dean's waist, hesitant until Dean gives him a small smile. Letting out a shaky breath, Dean leans forward, letting the side of his face rest against Cas' forehead and hair, feeling it tickle his skin. Tears start sliding down his cheeks again as he lets his eyes close.

He though he'd lost this, lost Cas for good. But now he's _here_ and Dean can't really believe it. Then Cas shudders under his hands, holds onto Dean a little tighter, and there's nothing either of them can do for now but get out the tears they couldn't shed for the other when they thought they were dead.

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><p>This was also in my philosophy notebook! but besides that, it's a secret santa gift to meganekko-bomb on deviantart through RaisedFromPerdition's secret santa event! there's a piece of art that accompanies it which can be found either on deviantart under the username KayzoK or on my tumblr (filthysweetie) tonight around 7ish<p> 


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